1939

Chapter 8: Weapons Don't Start Wars, Men Do

Gravel spit and hissed under the tires of large dull green trucks that wove their way along rocky paths of countryside hills. Mikey sat in the back with several other men, staring down at the ground. Not a single word was exchanged as they sat in silence, each one wearing their green uniforms and helmets in hand as they approached their first battle straight after training. Guns propped against the seats no one said anything.

Apart from an officer sitting at the back of the truck. He stared them down and barked, "Come on men look alive! C'est une guerre. Si tu es brisé avant de la commncer, tu seras vite irrémédiablement vaincu." Mikey rolled his eyes as the man beside him whispered, "I think officer Ross missed the memo. We aren't French." Mikey turned to Ronnie and glared at him.
"Do you ever shut up? Ryan volunteered to side with the Americans cause he knows we don't have enough qualified officers. Respect your seniority, even if they are from France." He rolled his eyes again and went back to staring at the ground as Ronnie muttered about him being a stuck up prick. He ignored him for the rest of the trip as he listened to the crunch of stones on tires and the quiet mutterings of the men he would share the next few years of his life with.

His head jerked forwards as the truck came to a stop. Ryan stood up and called for them to stand and jump off the truck. Mikey went to follow but was stopped by a soft hand on his shoulder as Ryan stopped him. Smiling gently he looked at him and said, "Listen, here's a word of voice. Stay away Ronnie and his group. I've seen his type before, he's what'll get you killed. Don't worry about the bullets, worry about the men. Les armes ne font pas les guerres. Surveille tes arrières." He smiled again and let go of his shoulder, nudging him forwards. Feet slipping on the stones he quickly made his way down to a tent and threw the helmet, gun and bag he had onto an empty area.

He went to lie down as he stared at the sky, stones digging into the back of his head as everyone laughed and joked around him. Three men were even playing a card game, one with jet black hair was winning the game by a mile. With a triumphant cry he threw down a card and laughed as he gathered up all the other cards. Apparently victorious Mikey tuned them out only distantly hearing the cries of "You cheated Frank!" And how Frank never won an honest game in his life. Mikey didn't care, this was his first day and he wasn't here to make friends. He sure as hell didn't give a damn about a stupid card game. Well he didn't until he heard something of interest.

"Oh I bet Frankie's cheating cause he want to impress his boyfriend. Bet he forgot he got shipped off to St. Lawrence." Mikey rolled his eyes, well he did until he heard Frank's reply.
"Oh just shut up will you? You and I both know Gerard isn't my boyfriend. I don't care that they placed him one of those stupid ships okay?" He snapped with a red face that said it all as he shuffled the cards whilst Mikey stood up and walked over.

"Did you say you knew Gerard?" Quiet voice he reciprocated Frank's stare.
"Yeah, I did. Gerard Way I think his name is. Why?" Mikey licked his dry lips and held his hands clasped together to prevent them from shaking.
"He's my brother... I'm Mikey way, do you know where exactly he is or..." His words trailed off as he chewed his lip nervously. Frank watched him carefully and leaned forwards.
"Of course I don't Mikey. But you listen to me, you're a new arrival right? Well keep your head down and keep quiet. Maybe you'll see him again." He laughed and turned back to the card game as Mikey shuffled away breathing heavily. Gerard, he knew that man. He was with him, that means he could still be alive. He could be alright, he's alive. But there was no way he would know if Pete was.

The sound of shots miles ahead interrupted his thoughts as he grabbed his gun and sat down, glancing over at Frank and the others for directions as they appeared to be the seasoned veterans. With laughter they ignored the shots and continued their game. With laughter that contorted into screams as a light brown haired man with cards in hand fell forward, thick dark blood seeping out of a bullet wound as a nearly deafening shot from a gun nearby met its mark. Shrieks of traitor following a slim dark haired man as he dropped his gun and ran, his own blood coating the gravel and dirt ahead as Frank stood up, gun in hand. Head spinning Mikey watched as Frank ran towards the screaming traitor clutching his bleeding arm as he shrieked, "YOU MURDERED ALEX YOU BASTARD!" Ryan ran towards Frank and demanded he drop his gun as Mikey heard his own feet crunch against the rocks and felt them slip in the blood as he ran to check on the man bleeding on the ground. He looked up at Ryan to confirm that the man was still alive. The allies would have questions for him, perhaps it was a mistake for him that Frank hadn't landed a fatal shot. What came next for him certainly wouldn't be pretty, and Mikey knew it. Perhaps that's why he felt remorseful for him in a sick twisted way. No matter how you put it, he still murdered Alex and there was bound to repercussions for that. Someone had to pay, no matter how.